The Worst Groom
by Singing Violin
Summary: Chakotay's wedding doesn't go exactly as planned.


Title: The Worst Groom  
Series: Star Trek: Voyager  
Author: Singing Violin  
Rating: K+  
Summary: Chakotay's wedding doesn't exactly go as planned.  
Disclaimer: TPTB own them, but they didn't do what I wanted with them, so I'm borrowing them for a bit. I'll give them back when I'm done.  
Feedback: Yes please.  
Archiving: Anywhere.  
Author's note: This piece was inspired by a "Friday's Worst" video on Jay Leno. The video traumatized me, so I'm trying to deal the only way I know how.

"_Come on, Big Guy, drink up. This is your last night as a single man."_

Chakotay groaned as his alarm clock woke him. He wished he hadn't been so enthusiastic on Paris's encouragement the night before … no, make that a few hours ago. He groaned again.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, and the light assaulted him. "Computer, decrease illumination twenty percent … no, make that fifty percent." With the lights at an acceptable level, he went to work preparing for his big day.

Half an hour later, he stood, immaculately dressed in his tuxedo, and replicated a boutonnière for his lapel, then carefully pinned it on. He examined himself in the mirror. _Not half bad for the wrong side of fifty_. His bride would be pleased.

She seemed to always be pleased with him. Perhaps too pleased …

He shook the thought out of his head and made his way towards the cargo bay, which had been outfitted for the ceremony. Tom and Harry stood outside the door, waiting for him, similarly dressed, and somehow not looking nearly as badly off as their superior officer felt. _I guess I'm not as young as I used to be. That kind of night takes more of a toll on a mature man_.

"What took you so long?" asked Tom excitedly. "It's not every day a man gets to marry a beautiful woman. One might think you were having second thoughts!"

For a moment, Chakotay contemplated the helmsman's idle comment. It was true that marriage was quite permanent, and the relationship was, in all honesty, quite new. Were his feelings really the permanent kind? Again, he shook away the thoughts and proceeded into the hall.

He took a deep breath as the musicians began to play. First Harry, then Tom left his side, and finally it was his turn to march. Stoically, he proceeded down the aisle, stopping at the makeshift altar. Looking up, his eyes met the kind ones of his captain and best friend. For a moment, he thought he read something flicker across those eyes, but it was gone before he could interpret it. She smiled at him, a smile which once had offered him reassurance in times of need, but now made him all the more uneasy.

As he waited for the bride's arrival, his thoughts began to stray. Sure, she was beautiful, and intelligent, and devoted … but what, really, did she see in him? And could he really live up to her expectations? It wasn't like she knew him as well as Captain Janeway …

Just then, the musicians began to play the familiar melody, and a vision in white made its way down the aisle. Blinding white … in fact, he could swear stars were bursting before his eyes, and they weren't just the sparkles on her dress.

He felt Tom Paris's hand on his arm. "That's gonna be yours," the pilot whispered, and he used the sound of his Best Man's voice to anchor him once again. Blinking, he allowed himself to admire his soon-to-be-wife's beauty.

Soon, his bride was standing at his side. She smiled sweetly at him. He tried to smile back at her, but his eyes were drawn back to the officiant. Looking back and forth, he began to wonder about his choice, and his heart began to race.

He needed a moment to collect himself.

"I'm a bit nervous," he admitted. "I think I'd better sit down."

The bride nodded, and the officiant gestured with her head for him to sit. Quickly, he made his way to a vacant seat in the first row, and put his head in his hands. _Breathe_.

Without warning, the drinks he had imbibed only hours before in the holodeck made their way back up his esophagus and he leaned over, his copious vomit quickly forming a large puddle on the floor between his legs.

The captain turned her face slightly from the sight before her, unable to completely hide her disgust. The bride had not been facing in his direction, but she turned now, an expression of alarm crossing her face.

"Are you ill?" she asked worriedly.

With his head still between his legs, he shook it slightly. "I'm sorry, Seven," he whispered. "I just can't do this."

With that, he sat up, looking in the captain's direction. At the pleading expression on his bright red face, her own softened slightly. Then she threw a dirty glance towards the groomsmen. _I know this is your fault_. They turned their eyes guiltily to the floor.

The captain put her hand on the bride's shoulder. "It seems I won't be marrying you today," she observed. "I'm very sorry."

Gently pushing Seven aside, she made her way towards the groom, carefully stepping around the revolting puddle.

"Come on, Chakotay," she urged quietly. "Let's get you back to your quarters."

With that, she helped him to rise from the chair and began ushering him back up the aisle. The crew stared, dumbfounded by what had happened.

She stopped to issue a general admonishment. "You're all dismissed," she told them sternly. With that, she finished walking Chakotay out, hoping the rest would follow, but not waiting around to see.

Once in his quarters, she led him to the couch, upon which he practically collapsed. He still hadn't looked up from the floor.

She squatted in front of him. "Are you all right now?"

Silently, he shook his head. "Gods, Kathryn, I'm so embarrassed."

She chuckled bitterly, rising slightly and then sitting next to him. She put a hand on his knee. "You should be."

"I almost married the wrong woman today," he admitted.

She smiled. "I was wondering when you'd figure that out."

Sheepishly, he looked over at her. "I didn't figure it out. My stomach had to tell me."

With that, he put a hand on his abdomen and looked suspiciously as if he were about to be ill again.

The captain rubbed his back. "It's okay, Chakotay. All that matters is that you know now."

"Would you really have done it?" he asked her. "I mean, marry us?"

She nodded without hesitation. "If I thought it would make you happy, yes I would have done it."

"You'd do anything for me, wouldn't you?" he asked.

"Yes," she agreed. "I would. And so would she."

"I noticed," he admitted. "I feel badly. I should go to her." With that, he moved to rise.

Kathryn stopped him with a hand on his chest, pushing him back down onto the couch. "Sometimes the best course of action is to let things be," she advised. "Seven will be all right. You'll only complicate the situation by going to her now."

He sighed. "You're right of course. When did you get so wise?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure it was so wise of me to let it go this far. To be honest, I didn't know what else to do other than let you make your own choices. I can't say I was pleased, but I was willing to accept your decision, whatever it was."

He affixed her with an apologetic gaze. "Will you ever forgive me?"

She snickered slightly. "I think you've done your penance today."

He nodded. "I'm just glad I didn't …" His voice trailed off.

"I know," she answered sympathetically. "Me too."

"I think I should go back to bed," he observed.

She nodded. "That sounds like a wise choice. Will you be all right on your own, or should I stay?"

"I'll be all right," he assured her, though he didn't quite convince himself. "Go take care of the crew. Spirits know I probably traumatized more than a few of them."

Gently, she reached forward and brushed his hair away from his tattoo. Smiling, she rose and exited his quarters.

Suddenly, he felt something rise within him. He tensed in preparation to bolt for the bathroom, but belatedly realized that it wasn't vomit this time.

It was hope.


End file.
